


Mutant By Any Name

by ThanksALatte_tripleshot



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Amnesia, Brotherhood of Mutants, Charles Has Issues, Darwin Lives, Erik has Issues, Everyone Has Issues, Fluff as well as horror, Gaslighting, Government Agencies, Lots of baby mutants, Medical Experimentation, Memory Alteration, Mutant Powers, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Partial Mind Control, Post X-Men: First Class, Presumed Dead, Rescue Missions, Secret Identity, Team as Family, Team building through sheer necessity, Undercover, X-Men References, X-Men: Days of Future Past References
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-09-30 22:56:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17232710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThanksALatte_tripleshot/pseuds/ThanksALatte_tripleshot
Summary: Honestly, Hank and everyone at the school thought things were at the worst after the war began and Charles, with Moira, infiltrated secret government agencies to erasing all record of the school's existence.Then rumor spread that a division had a method developed by Trask Industry to detect mutants. Suddenly, Charles and Moira vanish without a trace, leaving everyone scrambling to find them. Magneto even escapes from prison to add further complication.They really never imagined things could get worse than that! They especially didn't expected finding out where Charles vanished to could be worse than him being lost but it really was.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this AU, Charles never stole Moira's memory, he only helped her make them believe she knew nothing, and she remained their inner circle ear secretly watching over them.  
> Once the war begins, the oldest teachers are drafted and subsequently die. Then Alex, Sean, and Darwin (Darwin lived) find draft notices, Charles and Moira decide to take matters into hand. Moira brings Charles in as a fake agent.  
> Hank developed a serum to let Charles walk as well as keep his powers even though he has a slightly harder time using them.

**Mutant By Any Name**

The orange and yellow tongues lapped hungrily at the white paper, curling the edges first as it swiftly turned it all the black. Smoke wafted up and caused unfortunate gray haze to fill the air and clog the nostrils of the two people hiding in the depths on the building. The large furnace was a quiet end for the dangerous papers hiding inside, all turned to ash. 

The secret task force would never be able to doom another to death with those files. With a triumphant smile, the young agent closed the door and slid the metal latch into place with a solid click. She felt, with that sound, as if she could take a breath at last after far too long. 

After painstaking months picking through every dusty filing cabinet known to humanity, the evidence was finally gone, and it was really the last. Both of them took a few steps back, staring through the small window into the fire as they might have stared at a particularly stunning art piece. Tucking back a few stray strands of her dark hair; she cut it the day before they went in but having it shorter still seemed odd; fingers looping it behind her ear, Moira smiled to her cohort in crime.

In the dark room, his bright iceberg-blue eyes seemed to positively glow. Though he was not that much taller than she was, he always felt like he towered over her. The magnificent being before her towered over everyone regardless of actual height and he did not even have to try, simply exuding everything that warranted respect. Charles reached out and squeezed her hand, his shoulders lacking the slump they had for months. The ever winning and equally exuberant grin met hers ㄧ his thick beard hiding much of his face, transforming his usually soft, baby-face features into something less innocent, harder edged and more worldly; less the bright eyed genetic expert that smiled easily past the darkness shrouding a world only those with his gift could see ㄧ and he finally seemed freer. 

Though his beard was trimmed ever so neatly, the sort of order the professor exuded over everything he did, she would never be used to seeing it there. He loathed it anyway, ever complaining that it itched; but it was functional considering how drastically different it made him look, which was exactly the point of it. 

Agent MacTagger glanced back at the blaze beside her, still feeling the heat roll from the monster. The orange light gave her skin a glow it no longer could hold on its own after too many late nights, lab visits, and grief induced dieting. It did the same for the man beside her, making him look more full of life than he had since she and the boys carried him off the sandy beach ㄧ and it helped to hide the undertone of gray in his skin from the continued use of Hank’s serum that kept Charles functioning. 

The first and biggest step was over, which brought a spark of pleasured relief to them both. This was the payoff for all their trouble.

"We've done it!" He exclaimed, that suave and smooth British accent appearing the way it only did when it was the two of them; for the time he had been faking his identity, he had been a highly convincing New York born Irishman. "We actually did it!"

Her chin dipped in a nod, still unable to wipe the grin away, "Yes we did!" Her arms could not help reaching for him to wind around his neck and she simply smothered herself in his wavy, longer-than-was-strictly-his-style hair. The returned hug made so much of the tension ease from her but she really could not help adding in a little cold truth, not the bright optimist she once had been any more than he was, "But we can't exactly rest easy yet."

"One step at a time, my dear. One cannot eat an elephant in one sitting." The good humor was not missing from his soft voice as he spoke but there was a distant resignation, "Such will always be the case but victory can be taken in every step. We have done well and we've secured many lives." 

Her mind pessimistically tugged up the lives lost rather than won. As they searched records they simply reinvented the files of any mutant they encountered, altering ages, locations, and anything else they thought prudent. Many had been shown the way to the school by the two of them to safeguard their lives, especially the known ones in their respective towns, those sure to be drafted or rediscovered. Hank and the other boys had quite a growing gathering at the mansion, probably more than they knew what to do with; mostly the mutants were of fighting age or younger, but some were of age to recruit as promising teachers for a later date. With the trail erased, they were all safe at the school. Even so, it did nothing to lighten the weight from the heart of one agent and one telepath, not really.

It had been such a long time of very careful work, mountains of paper littering each of their respective tables, chairs, and beds. Waking up without the crackle of papers crumpling under an elbow would seem a strange thing now. Every waking and often dreaming moment was devoted to their cause and to erasing every scrap or note that ever existed to prove what records now stated had ever been different. 

The Xavier family was rich but owned absolutely no property and kept no bank accounts so far as anyone would ever be able to prove again. One Charles Xavier died at young age while an unrelated one did indeed become a professor. The Xavier name was now elusive to find even if erasing it was impossible considering their standing in more than the US and England. While they could not touch London, this was enough to stop the threat for the time being. Though it would seem strange, the rich were known to carefully hide their money, most of all during war time, so it was also normal. 

The school was home to a very old Mrs. Dillard and her multiple grandchildren: Henry Dillard, Shawn Dillard, Alexander Dillard, and Darwin Dillard. Their uncle, Charles Dillard frequented the house as well from time to time as an additional owner. Absolutely no mutants had ever stepped foot inside that old place of the highly paranoid old woman. Friends of the Dillard children may or may not have occasionally spent the night. Children would be children! Hank, never worked for the CIA, and neither had the other boys. All but Henry; who had too many health problems such as poor sight’ were too young to be drafted in the war.

Her grip on his much stronger, thicker hand tightened. It was all quite perfect and they had been very thorough, extracting documents from every possible place. They simply erased the vast Xavier trail but created new history for everything else. No easy task but after long months using her real badge ;also an assumed one of Rachelle Kinrose; and his fake badge that was real as far as any record for a particular fictitious agent Patrick Francis could be, they finally could take a breath. They were safe, or as close as anyone in an uncertain world. The last of the considerable paper trail was burned and replaced with innocent other documents of absolutely no interest to anyone.

God, they hoped it stayed that way! They already lost too much, they just could not let it happen again.

Moira started at the hiss of the water heater to her right, eyes darting about just in case. Her nerves were well worn of late and she was ever alert, fingers always ready at her hip holster. There was a time she was fearless, not frightened by every sound, but that was before she smuggled her closest friend into what amounted to a death trap. 

While he was a telepath, everyone knew there were ways to circumvent his skills and if that happened, well, she cared not consider it long. Not after her one encounter with the laboratory of some twisted mind the government deemed essential. Fear was a constant shadow after that and guilt was its twin.

“Easy, love.” His lips pressed reassuringly against her hair and she felt the surge of comfort he sent her. God, she loved him, loved him more than anyone in her life and she did not care if he overheard that thought. Short of smudging her memory the way everyone believed he had, he could not fix her though.

“It’s fine.” She muttered.

Regret was a companion forever close at her side and she knew it would remain as such for the rest of her life. Had she done more and trusted less before, perhaps the three teachers at the school would never have died. Good men, all three, though Adam had been particularly gentle, much like Charles was before he met Erik. War was cruel regardless of who anyone was but it was instant death for known mutants, all instantly posted at the front. Sending mutants to their death was deemed no great loss and as good as killing two birds with one stone. It was no different than murder to send them alone in little groups to do as much damage to the enemy as possible before they died. It really-

"Take victory where you can find it, Moira." Charles cut into her sad and angry thoughts, pulling from his arms to look her over. "Sanity is only kept by taking steps and facing forward rather than back."

She smiled in spite of herself, never sure whether to smoother the man with his own hair or kiss him. He was still so very Charles, no matter how much grief was heaped onto his head. He was so much stronger than any man she had ever met in her life, the "better man" he always suggested lived inside people. So very much better! Better than humans ever would be. A metal manipulator had been right about that where it related to this man. Humans, she could not deny, were a speck of darkness compared to the bright light of anyone like Professor X. She loved his light even as she grew to loathe the darkness of humanity.

Her trail still existed, but she was a human and her connection to mutants had been utterly forgotten thanks to an unnamed ㄧ though not the young and perfectly human professor of genetics ㄧ and powerful telepath. Or that was what her entire workforce believed. They did not call him a genius for nothing. Equally, they believed she hated mutants thanks to having her life stolen by one and she vastly encouraged them in their thinking no matter how it disgusted her.

"I know... I know." She said quietly, "It just never seems enough."

His fingers flexed on her shoulder, rumpling her standard gray coat, "One day, when we look back, it will."

She knew he did not really believe that himself, she could see it in the hollow ache in the smile he gave her. Those smiles or fleeting looks in his eyes reminded her what the world had done to him, those moments when his shield slipped, she always knew that the innocent and joyously exuberant man she found in a bar would never be the way he once was. He said it anyway, to comfort her.

“Yes, one day.” She could speak things she did not believe as well and be convincing with a hopeful hint of a smile, so long as he did not read her mind.

There would never be an ending to what they had to do but she could endure anything with this man at her side. Perhaps it was petty to lean on him when so much already rested on those shoulders but she could not help feeling energized by him. Being with the man was like getting a shot of confidence in the arm. It was easy to follow him and trust in everything he said because she knew he was the best man in all the world. Perhaps he was not the strongest but he was the kindest and she loved him for it. Unlike some men with power, Charles used it differently. With his abilities he could rule cities but he chose not to. That, to her, proved everything she could ever need in order to follow anyone. Her faith in what she once believed was lost. Personally having witnessed the evil of both mutant and humans she could speak to the value of a good heart behind power.

She would do absolutely anything he asked because she knew, she trusted him. Trust was not easily won in her world but she trusted in Professor X irrevocably.

Those children were hers as much as they were his. Protecting them was a thing she would do without hesitation regardless of cost to her person or her oaths. Life and allegiances changed with the shifts of powers and the sway of those pulling the strings of justice. She could never follow blindly after those giving orders because she had seen what blindness did. Blindly following orders nearly began a war, split friendships, split family, and always hurt the most innocent involved; such as Charles and small bullets. 

His hand was at the small of her back then, leading her toward the door, "But I sense people coming, so reveling might best be done outside, I think."

Her smile dropped in its entirety, "They found us? Do they know?"

The beating of her heart was already twice as high as a moment again, a tightness in her stomach and chest already present along with the first signs of a tremble in her fingers.

"No, nothing so dramatic, but it is better not to be seen."

He did not have to tell her twice before she latched a death grip onto his hand and dragged him at a trot down the hallways and raced him up the steps. She would let no one catch them, not ever! He would be found out over her dead body! If they got hold of him it would be with nothing left but bloody stumps from her and she would indeed fight them to the bitter end.

Moira tugged him along, taking extra care to keep the slight heel of her shoe from making too much noise as they escaped the section, weaving up back steps with cold cement steps and utterly no comfort to be had. The stairs were as much a trap as they were an escape but the enclosed space was of better use than the much frequented elevator.

Her hand stayed clasped with his, not wanting to risk his suddenly becoming unsteady; steps were harder for him when he was tired. The gun was still at her hip but she had removed the strap holding it down so it would be a faster draw if she needed it.

Once they were finally stepping outside, she let go of the breath she had been holding. Her very next act was to let go of his hand, still wary of anyone spotting them at that time of night.

She knew what she would say they had been doing, tossing her reputation to the dogs, but it would be an easy lie to sell. No one would blame her for the misconduct considering half the secretarial pool would slip into any vacant room with him on a moment of notice if he simply asked. He was good looking even with that beard on his normally smooth, boyish face. The ladies swooned for his charm, his well shaped shoulders, his swaying hips, and always his angelically evil smile.

“We should go.” He prompted, odd accent back in place, “My place or yours?”

They used so many little phrases that meant to many different thing, and she knew what that one meant. There were people around, people that were close enough to hear them.

She smiled, sultry and coy and fake, “Yours.”

Ch-Patrick purred at her, shifting suggestively closer, “Then let’s not waste time.”

They had been over things like this, what they should say and do. It was obviously too late to pretend they were coincidentally working late at the same time and would be going home separately. Other than the truth, there was only one other thing people would believe.

In the past he might have just pulled a trick from his hat and made whatever group it was forget, but since he lost his legs, since his body had to navigate the serum, he was weaker. If it was a large group he had more trouble getting hold of all of them the way he never would have before. That much alone told her there were quite a few people near them. They might be in trouble.

Patrick took her hand with that sensual and very signature flirtation of the professor she met in a bar, his slinky hips and torso swaying suggestively as he walked. He was so very good at this but it was all she could do to mirror it back, leaning in playfully against his arm. The trouble was that her legs were shaking and it was almost all she could do to walk.

All she wanted to do was pull out her gun and tell him to just run. They had the majority of what they came for! The boys were safe, the school was safe, and Charles was anonymous, so Charles also needed to be safe.

If Charles’ thickening act of seduction was indication; the increased touching, leaning, smiling, and caressing; whatever group was following, did not believe them. How long would they be followed? 

“Let’s get to the subway!” Moira whispered, her lips hardly moving at all, “We can lose them in the tunnels.” 

“They are anticipating that but we can try.” He whispered back and she was not sure if he spoke aloud or into her mind but it was starting not to matter.

“A taxi then. Even if the driver is one of them, you can take control of him.”

She was starting to see movement out of the corners of her eyes if she turned her head just so. They were in the streets, on the roof, and who knew where more. The two of them hurried into the main streets, both starting the breathe faster as they increased speed. They desperately needed a well populated space. While the streets were not as crowded as would have been ideal, or even moderately ideal, it was still a relief when they burst into the mulling people out for whatever reasons after work. Moira did not care who they were but she was glad to see them, breathing just a little better when she felt the brush of humanity one did not have to be a telepath to feel.

As luck would have it, they hoped, there were a few blazing yellow vehicles lazing by. Moira let her hand slip from his, almost jumping into the street to catch the attention of the first one, and she had never been so close to tears of joy as she was when it stopped for her.

Charles eased up beside her as she jerked the door open, a little glad she did not have enhanced strength for her force would have jerked it right off those metal hinges.

“Let’s-” Moira stopped instantly at soul freezing sound she knew too well followed by the startled grunt she heard from Charles and she whirled, locking eyes with him. Those sky bright eyes were wide, terrified and resigned all at once. They shot him, God, they shot him! She knew that metallic zing, knew it well and felt so sick even before his hand slid up to his neck. Adrenaline shot through her and she had him in her arms before she knew she moved, pulling him. They fell inside together and he tried to help her, curling his legs inside as she crawled over him faster than she thought she could, slamming to door as if that could save him from any more.

“Drive!” She had never sounded so menacing in her life, “Now!”

The little plumber looking man did not question her, he simply obeyed. His swiftness to follow her commands might have had a lot to do with his wide eyes fixed on the gun she hardly remembered pulling out.

Charles was sprawled over the length of the seat while she actively perched over him, sitting on his hip and hovering like a wild eyed tiger. Her free hand moved for his neck even if she knew it was too late. Before she could find what she was looking for he held the small dart up between them, looking at her with glazed and dilated eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

_One Week Prior_

A quiet sigh escaped past slender lips before Hank Mccoy swallowed nervously, eyes darting over every section of the small cafe. His foot tapped at the leg of the booth as he worked desperately to control his need to flee. They had kept him waiting twenty minutes past time and he was starting to worry himself into a tizzy. The brilliant young mind of his had already thought up thirty things that could potentially have gone wrong and he was still working on more.

With every minute that ticked by too loudly on the huge clock in the back his nerves wound a little more tightly. His horn rim glasses slipped down his nose as they typically did and he pushed them back into place with one finger.

Being Charles and Moira’s only contact with the outside world was about as stressful as it came. What if he gave them away? What if he did something wrong and revealed them, or more particularly, Charles? His serum worked very well, for both of them, but there could always be a flaw.

The first few tries had not been the greatest of all, he would admit. The first left Charles and himself … stoned, for lack of better term. The next went perfectly fine for him other than a few minor glitches, but it somehow stole the telepathic powers from his mentor even though it did restore his legs. The recovery of those powers all at once were less than pleasing to poor Charles: first he had nearly had a panic attack when there had been utter and total silence in his mind for the entire length that the serum lasted, then he was overcome with the pain of all the voices returning and his legs giving out at once. That had not gone well at all and the scientist still felt rather guilty about it.

After that Hank had reconfigured his equation to adjust for the flaws. It was a success, for the most part. There were still flaws but they were minor. Charles could walk and use his powers at the same time.

However, if a new, unforeseen flaw occurred while he and Moira were in that place he could not even begin to think what might happen. Well, he could, and did at nearly every moment of every day, but that was beside the point.

In a word, Hank was stressed, very stressed. His head tipped back and he looked to the cheap, water damages tiles above in exasperation. Good Lord, he was stressed.

To compound his fears he now found himself looking after a great many more people than he started with. Alex was the enforcer of the house, the intimidation card for a few of the rebellious boys. Darwin, frankly, was the mother hen and big brother rolled into one. Sean was somehow the younger sibling of everyone regardless of age as well as typical cohort in crime unless it was something he knew the Professor would not care for, then he showed restraint; he had been getting better about playing leader as time passed but he was still half a child himself. Hank himself, he did not know exactly what role he played beyond being the “responsible” one. He played Charles while the other man was away even though he fell utterly short.

“Sorry I’m late, Hank.” The silky, feminine voice eased over him to do quite the opposite of startling him the way sudden arrivals when he was beside himself normally would have. “We had a delay.”

“Where is Ch-Patrick?” Hank inquired equally as quiet.

“In the car.” She slipped into a chair jointed to the table next to his boot. “We picked someone up.”

“A student?” He knew the answer but asked anyway.

“Yes, she is. She is in no danger of being drafted but she had been discovered and would have been picked up by another school,” that was their covert word for the laboratories or weaponized re education, “so we snatched her up first.”

Hank nodded mutely, fingers working the edge of the table but he did have questions, “How has he been handling everything?”

“Well enough. He doesn’t sleep much but none of us do. And he is charming as ever ㄧ has half the office in love with him and the other half wishing they _were_ him.”

Hank had to fight back a laugh, “Sounds about right.” But again, with the man in question not in the room, he needed more, “Is he drinking again?”

“No, not really. One or two with the other agents, but he is careful.”

His shoulders relaxed, eased by the news, “So he really is coping better.”

Moira seemed to hesitate before nodding, “Yes, he is.” Silence fell over her and he waited, tensing every second as he watched the stony look on her face, “But there are rumors. They say a scientist has developed something that can detect if a gifted person is in the area.”

“That isn’t new, that has been circulating for a while.”

“It was confirmed, supposedly.”

Hank nearly forgot to breathe, fighting the urge to stare at her in more than fleeting glances that could be passed off as a man admiring a woman.

“In light of that, I think you should give him extra medication. He only has two of the older formula and that might not be enough. Even if it isn’t pleasant, it would work in a pinch. You need to give him more of both.” She downed half her cup of coffee in one swallow, “You leave first. He is parked around the corner.”

Obediently, he stood and walked to the door even though he had so many more questions. No matter how many times they met, every two weeks was not enough. He worried endlessly between weeks and too short meetings.

Around the corner, as promised, was Charles huddled in the back seat with someone Hank could really not see under the hood of a coat. He moved closer until Charles looked up and smiled, speaking to the little creature beside him before opening the door and sliding out.

Hank’s breath nearly caught when he saw her stand, so very small and frail beside the Professor, black eyes haunting and despondent as she peeked at him from under her hood. He could not miss the white hair framing her face now even with the covering. There was no way she was over twelve. She was clinging onto the telepath’s cuff like a lifeline even as Charles assured her Hank was one of them.

The beast within seemed to rumble in anger and a surge of protectiveness for he knew what this rescue meant. The only way Moira and Charles would have so easily found her records and equally deemed one so young to be in need of the school was if the government had been after her. And the humans called _them_ monsters? When had they ever even _considered_ harming a child? When had they played these death games against the human race? Just because they looked different they somehow ended up being the scary shadow in the closet! How could those bastards have even considered going after such aㄧ

“Hank, I want to introduce Miss Ororo. She is interested in attending the school.” Charles crooned, a soothing, melodic voice laced with what the other mutant knew was a hint of telepathic suggestion of calm.

It worked. The beast inside him relaxed and the little girl held a little less of a death grip on the sleeve of the jacket Charles was wearing.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Ororo.” Hank smiled for her even though she did not offer a returning one.

“He is going to take very good care of you until I come back.” Even though the telepath said it softly it still made the girl tense, eyes wary instantly.

Suddenly Moira was at Hank’s side, smiling sweetly at the little girl. That smile, Ororo returned ever so slightly. He could guess she was the sort to warm to people very slowly, not trusting quickly unless the individual was one Professor X. Charles could win just about anyone over and gather a following without even trying. Probably because they could just sense his heart when they were around him, he knew his beast always did. Not trusting Charles was like not breathing.

Moira strolled forward and crouched down in front of the child, not an easy task in heels, he would assume, “The Professor and I have to go now, but you will be perfectly safe at the school.”

Tiny, stick thin arms reached out and curled around the agent’s neck but she said nothing, not a word. Moira held her, petting her head through the hood for a moment before Charles laid his hand over the crown of the small head and in a blink the little thing fell limp.

The telepth scooped the child up gently and brought her to Hank. For the first time he got a real look at her and he took her, cradling her close to his chest, the beast thrumming inside him again. He knew Charles would put her to sleep simply because most of them could not handle what had to be done to transport them to the mansion. Being awake and in a small space was too much for already skittish individuals so it was common for them to be induced to sleep.

They could not let anyone see them with these children though, so they had to conceal them. It was too dangerous to do otherwise. They had so many to protect they could not risk leading anyone home. Better the children not know exactly where they were either just in case.

“I’ll take care of her, I promise.” Hank muttered.

“I know, and I trust you.” Charles smiled brightly at him, clapping him on the shoulder, “You have done an amazing job so far! I have complete faith in you.”

At least someone did.

“Have a little faith.” The telepath smirked knowingly, being a little too obvious that he heard that last thought.

Hank could not help but grumble mentally, knowing the other man would hear that too. The chuckle was his answer as the female agent and the fake agent turned to leave.

“Is everything still going alright?” Hank could not stop himself, always terrified the moment they started to leave because it could be for the last time. He might also have been clutching the girl to his chest a bit more for his own security. “How close are you?”

“It is going well.” Charles shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks, shifting instantly to speak directly from one mind to another, _We are a few stops away from destroying the last documents leading to the school. You and the boys are safe with name changes and fully new histories. All the people of the house are well documented._ He gestured toward the car they were soon to abandon after Hank sprayed the inside now that they had finished borrowing it from the real owner. “Papers are in the front seat. Hers as well.”

They never stayed long ㄧ they couldn’t. Lingering was dangerous. They stayed long enough to let it be known they were alive, tell him if they needed anything, and give a short update.

“See you around.” Moira smiled for him, sensing his reluctance even if she did not possess Charles’ skill, “I’ll take care of things, don’t worry.”

“Be careful.” Those words held so much more emotion than he was able to convey, so many fears and hopes he could not voice for the force of how deeply he wanted them out of that place.

Blue, tender, soulful eyes turned and Charles was there in an instant, hand cradling the back of Hank’s head, “Everything will be alright, I promise.” His voice actually cracked in such a rare show, probably feeling the swirling emotions radiating from the younger man, so he switched to speaking mentally again. _I will never let them touch you, never! No one will lay a finger on you or the others so long as I live._

Hank dropped his eyes to the other man’s chin. _That is partly what I’m afraid of._ He learned some time ago how to project his words back. Living with a telepath was educational.

“Don’t worry. It will all be over soon. You will see.”

And with that, the Professor slid away and the two of them vanished down one of the many dark streets. It would be two weeks before he would see them again. Two entire weeks of no sleep and pacing the halls as he tried not to think about what could go wrong and what in the world he would do with all those students if Charles never came back.

He knew this had to be done and knew they were the only ones that could pull it off. Moira was his in and with those powers Charles could smudge the memory of every agent that had ever seen their faces and he could legalize any name change simply by suggesting it to people with power in the office. By asking only a question or two, he could find out what every little move the government planned to take would be before they made it. So close to the records, they could falsify everything they needed to. Without a shapeshifter, a telepath was the only other option. Raven could not march in with the skin of some official and get them documents, so they had Charles do it.

They had a strict system of meeting. Every two weeks they would meet at one of four coffee shops. Hank was chosen to be the contact because he was meticulous and would not accidentally arrive at the wrong location and would not forget what they told him. So they met each time under the rules of the system they put together and also dropped off packages at predetermined places.

In two weeks they would either give him another mutant or one would simply show up. In two weeks they would erase more information and replace it with what they wanted it to say. In two weeks they could also be killed and he would not know until he went to the cafe three streets over and sat there for hours without ever seeing them.

For now he needed to move the girl, clear the car of evidence, and leave in his own ㄧ a fast, powerful car with an old exterior to make it fit with all the other cars. He would take her back and play Charles and try to lure the girl from her shell. Not that he could considering he was so deeply into his own shell it was amazing he ever spoke to anyone. He would have to try.

 


	3. Chapter 3

The waitress ambled over to his two person table again, looking bored but like she was still trying. Her face was youthful enough but the wrinkles on her neck and creases in her ears pegged her somewhere in the middle aged range, if the article on skin deterioration Hank read was a good judge.

Telling age or even occasionally ethnicity in others had never been his strongest area. He tended to ignore the appearance of others unless something caught his attention. People usually just looked the same, like people, to him, unless he made an effort.

Funny how he never noticed other people but worried so much about his own appearance and how normal he looked. Raven, no doubt would have called him out on it with her usual bluntness; she also would have said he only cared about being normal and thus was prejudiced against his own. Sometimes he might even say she had a point. He only noticed abnormalities and thought about how to alter them. There were always exceptions, like the first time he saw Raven, he noticed her before he ever knew there was anything different about her. Not that he cared to take himself back to that time or subject.  

"You want another refill?" Betty asked.

Hank pushed his cup forward, "Yes, please. Thank you very much!"

The clock on the wall was entirely too loud. The wooden chair supporting him squeaked every time he shifted but he stayed in it anyway, refusing to move by some twisted bit of paranoid logic. Hank fidgeted endlessly, unable to hold still or leave the cheap napkin alone. He polished the silverware at his table and drank so much coffee he suspected he might not sleep for a week.

Even so, they did not come. There was no sign of Charles or Moira, not a hair. He waited for hours, he waited seven hours past the agreed time but they never arrived.

Shoulders drooping and head hung low, he finally accepted the inevitable truth and drove home. The feeling was comparable to the emptiness he felt when Erik and the others left them on a beach with a crashed jet, a paralyzed friend, and no way to escape. Hank would be telling a boldface lie if he said it didn't frighten him to the marrow of his bones.

It was not hopeless though, he knew, and there was no reason to jump to conclusions. Things happen and it was hardly like they could call him to let him know they would not be arriving. It was bound to happen at some point. He was terribly worried but he had no intention of writing them off as lost. They would turn up in two weeks, of course, and they would tell him how sorry they were for worrying him. Things would go back to normal.

He assured the others of the same, going into a very long, drawn out explanation as to why they could have been unable to come. It did not have to mean bad news, it could mean they found a bus load of new mutants and had no time to break away. It clearly did not need to mean the rumors about Trask Industry developing mutant detection systems was real or at all threatening to Charles even if he worked in the general vicinity. Darwin was quick, too quick, to join him in adopting that theory to the others.

All those assurances didn't prevent Alex, Darwin, Sean, and himself from being sudden staple patrons in each meeting spot through the entire next two weeks. After "Patrick" and "Rachelle" still did not come, they couldn't pretend anymore.  Regardless, they remained faithful patrons for the next two weeks following as well. Everyone knew, regardless, that things had gone wrong, openly admitting it was the hold back.

Still, new mutants arrived at the school during those tense few weeks of searching and waiting. They had been sent by Charles with very real identification cards to alter names, ages, or residence. They knew it was Charles, and knew it for a brilliant move that it was since each card was supposedly issued various years earlier, perfect covers. The trouble was, the new additions were given the cards at various times before they lost contact. Each new face told them the same, no one had seen Charles or Moira in recent weeks.

After the second week of no contact, Hank posed as a janitor, trying to find them in all the places they had planned to hit, but there was nothing. He found records erased, which was good news, but he did not find them.  When he made careful inquiries about Patrick Francis he was always met with the same answer; ** _transferred to a different division_**. It was always a dead end, and a little too much like what they usually faced when they tried to track down any mutants supposedly transferred home from the war.

Though he did not want to, he recognized the signs, the paper trail, the method. He did not tell the others about the similarities for fear of causing a panic at the school.

If Charles had been captured he could reveal them all. The telepath behind Cerebro could... well, it was only borrowing trouble to contemplate such possibilities. Beyond that, he could not picture Charles ever giving any of them away, not even under torture. After all he had gone through to keep them safe there was no way he would throw it all away. Hank would wager he would die before he gave away the school. Moira would do the same and he knew it. There was no reason to terrify the others when he had no proof and no way to change anything.

They had never been able to find anyone else after they were spirited away. They might never know what really happened. He did not want to believe that or consider it an honest outcome but he did, could not help entertaining it.

Everyone in the mansion-turned-school, whether they really knew Charles and Moira or not, had begun to feel the tension hanging like smoke over the burned toast sitting on the kitchen counter. The longer their leaders were missing the more wary the atmosphere was in general.

Darwin sighed into his steaming cup of coffee, "It's been a week since the last new mutant showed up."

"We can do math too, Darwin." Alex muttered irritably right before he caught a small projectile midair that was suspiciously shaped like Scott Summers vaulting his tiny body from the kitchen counter, presumably in a child's attempt at an ambush. "Scotty! What did I say about climbing furniture!"

Little Scott paid no mind at all to the reprimand and attempted to jump directly from Alex's arms using his chest as a springboard, forcing Alex to juggle wildly, "I can fly!" He insisted, flapping his arms along with the pillowcases he tied to his arms, letting out several loud yells.

"Sorry." Sean offered, not looking up from his bowl of oatmeal, "I didn't know he was watching me practice."

Hank shook his head in exasperation, "I caught Jean in a free-fall off the banister yesterday with a sheet tied around her neck. You really have to stop flying over the house, Sean. They are young and impressionable. They also imitate everything they see at this age."

Alex was containing a small child with minimal success, muttering substitute swear words aimed at Banshee.

"There was that time he flew in the house too." Darwin offered, "That really kicked off the little kids trying it."

"I said I was sorry..." Sean insisted, "But as loud as some of them are, maybe they will develop my powers with some practice."

"That not how mutations work." Hank mumbled to his hands, not feeling much like getting involved in another argument between Sean and his lack of common sense.

"Scott, Jean, and Kurt do **not** need encouragement to do that!" Alex snarled, dangling the boy upside down.

"Fine, yeah, I got it." Sean shoved away from the island and deposited his bowl in the sink before exiting the kitchen with a dejected sigh. No doubt he thought they were fun killers but they had small children in the house to think of now.

Hank shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, willing himself to have some sort of magical transformation into someone that knew how to handle everyone. He wished he was good at it like Charles. He never knew what to say to make peace the way Charles did. He almost thought even Erik had been better at that kind of thing than he currently had a handle on. To say he wanted Charles and Moira back for that sounded an awfully lot like a child crying for mommy and daddy to fix things so he dared not verbalize it. They all wanted them back anyway so there was hardly need to voice the obvious.

Ororo stood in the doorway, white hair partially hiding her face from view as she watching the spectacle, judging them all for their total lack of skill as adults, no doubt, before she went to rummage in the fridge. She spoke very rarely to any of them though she seemed far more talkative with the children. Charles was still the only person that could have reached her just now. Hank felt like a failure every time those dark eyes fixed on him, studying him, but not allowing him close.

At least Scott was laughing now as Alex swung him like a pendulum instead of screaming. Darwin made an effort to subtly detach the pillowcases on each backward swing.

Alex was much happier with him little brother around where he knew the boy was safe. Even with everything else, Alex had lost a thousand pounds from his shoulders even if Scott caused him no end of trouble the way younger brother's usually did.

Scott also planned to marry Jean any day now, so there was also that. Jean was less inclined to agree and had not even accepted the Crackerjack box ring Scott tried to give her as an engagement ring. Sean kept telling the little boy he needed to work on being less annoying than his big brother if he wanted to get the girl. Darwin kindly assured Scott that women needed time to consider big questions like that, which the little boy seemed essentially satisfied with, but he still pouted most of the day before.

Hank had to wonder why Charles put him in charge of the school, he really did. A headmaster he was not. He could teach all day, work in the lab, but... running things? He would have willingly stayed blue the rest of his life if he could only step down and be replaced by Charles once again. 

Proceeding without him was not without its headaches, though searching without finding a sign was becoming taxing. They contrived plans, search every establishment they could get at but they found nothing, not a sign for five months. Five months! It felt terminally long, not knowing for _five months_.

He dreamed every night of finding Charles, sometimes they were happy dreams where everything worked out in the end. Most of the time the dreams were less so, things he would rather not think about. It never stopped him from dreaming no matter how hard he tried not to dwell on all the horrible potentials.

The door suddenly swooshed open to reveal an ashen Sean, "Come here," was all he got out before he was gone again.

Panic hit all three men at once. Alex nearly dropped Scott on his head when they all rushed for the door. Scott and Ororo follow at their heels like lost puppies, curious and worried without understanding why. 

"Tragically, the shooting was fatal." The man in a dark suit and tie reported to the camera, papers held up just so, "As one of the first and only female agents in the CIA, many consider it a particular blow to the progressive working force. Though her life was cut short, coworkers were quick to assure us that she will be missed and that the perpetrators will be apprehended as soon as possible." The anchor's voice sounded tinny over the television, his expression less empathetic than it should have been, "The memorial service honoring her service and mourning Officer Moira MacTaggert's tragic death in the line of duty will be held at the-" Hank missed every single word after, his ears somehow giving out and fading to static. It felt like someone suddenly stuffed his brain with cotton.

"No..." Darwin whispered like all the air had been stolen from him.

Hank did not blame him, he personally could not breathe at all and he found himself dropping like a sack of potatoes onto the couch on the other end as Sean.

Alex punched the back of the couch repeatedly, jarring it forward a full twelve inches even with Sean and Hank both sitting on it. The blond stormed out of the room promptly, snapping a "don't follow me" over his shoulder along with leaving a trail of red sparks behind. Hank knew without confirming that Havok would be down in the bunker the rest of the day and maybe the next. They would probably need to bring him sandwiches and water at some point, if things were not on fire at least. 

When Hank looked up Darwin was gone too and he had no idea where he might have gone nor could he spare the brainpower to conjure good guesses.

They killed Moira. They killed her! She was a human, he had thought for sure they would let her go eventually. He thought if either of them were release it would be Moira. She was CIA, one of their own, in a way. Granted, Trask had been denied a contract with the government recently but it did not really stop several branches from working with him. It never stopped them from shipping mutants right from the front line to his door. He never really expected... he really thought she would be... that she would eventually show up, maybe a bit battered, but alive. If they would kill Moira... there was no hope at all for Charles, a mutant.

Maybe they killed her because she knew too much. They killed her because she would not keep their secrets. Their only human contact was gone. Moira was gone. Just like that, like she meant nothing. He knew Trask was likely at the root of it, he'd dug up that much. With deep pockets like those, what did any of them care about one or two lives lost? It made sense. It did, he should have been prepared for that.

After long minutes of total silence Scott crawled into Sean's lap, attaching himself like a koala. It was only when he noticed Scott clinging that he realized Banshee was crying, fat, silent tears rolling down his face. Sean cared for Moira, Hank should have thought of that too.

"It's okay." Scott whispered into Sean's ear, "You can cry. I cry sometimes too. Alex says we can cry here."

Hank withered, folding in on himself, huddling against the arm of the couch. His skin was turning blue in some places and he was shaking from head to toe. He felt like he was going into shock, like information overload, which had never happened to him before. He had felt something like this when the other teacher's had been taken and never came back but now... now it was Charles, their rock that would never be coming home. It was real now, not some simple idea, a theory. Now he knew with absolute certainty that Charles was wherever all the others had gone. They were never going to see Charles or Moira ever again. How could that be? How? Charles was so strong! He was... untouchable, he was _Charles_!

Ororo edged in on the couch bedside him, staring for a moment before scooting up beside him. He wondered absently if the children even knew why they were upset. Wordlessly, she cuddled in at his side, petting the blue fur already springing up on his arms. After he did not seem calmed by it she settled on her knees and rested her head on his shoulder. She didn't move for a very long while and neither did he. It was easier to sit very quietly. More than one person came in to ask what had happened but neither he nor Sean managed to answer that question the rest of the day.

It was grief, and probably shock. They had lost a friend, someone they fought beside, survived beside, and a strong support system. They had also lost a mentor, a teacher, a guide, because they all knew full well that if Moira was dead, Charles was too. There was no way one would have gone down without the other. Moira was as fierce as she was loyal, it was probably the reason they killed her.

A day later Hank overheard Darwin talking to another of the new teachers. Darwin ask aloud the one question Hank had been dreading to even ponder for so many reasons; "I wonder how long they were alive... how long did they keep them before they killed them? I mean, could we have... if we'd found them... could we have saved them?"

"I'm sure there was nothing to be done. You did everything you could." Piotr was quick to respond, young and overly optimistic.

"Did we?" Darwin shook his head, despondent, "They went out there, right into the lion's den for us and we all sat here in this cushy house and let them. When they needed us, where exactly were we?"

Yes, where had they been while their friends were tortured and killed, or worse, harvested? How much had they really risked to find them? How many boats did they rock to get them back alive? The truth was, they risked very little, not wanting to get themselves back on records. Deep down, after they vanished, not one of them really believed Charles would come back alive. They counted him dead long before reality caught up with them. Those deaths were on them, on their inaction. The question was, where should they go from there? Hank had never felt more lost.

Days later, the television stations lit up with news on all five stations that a person involved in the assassination of the president had escaped.  Though he was technically not named, no "Mutant leader escaped" flashing over the screen, but they all knew. Erik was free once again.

That news was more than a little stunning after they were only just wrapping their minds around the last blow. Alex swore up one way and down the other, in enough of a rage to set  the lamp and a few other things on fire before he got himself in check. 

Darwin was worried there could be some form of connection between Moira's death and the escape even if they didn't know what it could be.  Like, possibly, they killed them because of the escape. Possibly Erik escaped days before and the public had not been told. Not that he had a full theory as to why Magneto's escape would force it. Well, they actually could think of a theory, a reason to dispose of evidence, to purge connections; fear of discovery.

Magneto could have gone after Charles and would not have been hindered by thoughts of secrecy. Not that he would have, he'd left Charles and the rest of them to die before, but maybe the humans weren't up to date on that.

Hank very much hoped it was not connected because that might mean Moira had been alive for five months and they had left her to rot. If there was a connection, if that was true, Hank did not know how any of them would live with it.

* * *

Patrick held on, rocking back and forth, arms curled tightly around the figure. He swayed gently, keeping them in motion in an attempt to bring the only comfort he could gather his mind for. There was too much silence, too much still air. The tiny room was dark, fridged. It was like being dead, he thought. His mind felt so much like dandelion puffs scattered in the wind and he wondered, not for the first time, if he would be able to find all the pieces.

Patrick rocked the body in his arms, "Everything is going to be just fine, you'll see, Rachelle. Everything will be all right."

She seemed so small now, so thin and fragile, like a glass doll that could shatter if he touched her wrong. His mother used to have dolls like that, beautiful but untouchable.  Or he thought he remembered that particular feminine touch in his home so he assumed it was his mother. It was not a detail he could recall clearly, only moderately touch.

He picked at the dry blood absently until he realized it was her blood, her skin, and not his own. It made him fidget with his own scabbed flesh, unable to help himself. His finger needed something to occupy them while she stayed still on the floor.

"Everything will be all right, love."

His eyes were so heavy, so very heavy, they burned to keep them open. He rolled his head from side to side in an attempt to stay awake, knowing he could not afford to sleep in this place, not now, not when she was so weak.  It was a battle and he struggled to pull up equations to solve or simply keep himself rocking steadily. He had to stay awake! He could not sleep, she needed him. But he was so tired. Perhaps if he only closed his eyes for a few seconds, just enough to soothe them, then he would be better.

"Don't worry about a thing, love." He told her, or perhaps himself.

In a desperate attempt to keep himself from slipping under he began to tell her about mutations even though he could not think how he knew anything about genetics. He must have studied it at one point or another. It hardly mattered in this case so long as he kept the slurred words rolling off his tongue rather than close his eyes the way he so badly longed to. His legs ached horribly but it was not enough to overpower the pull of sleep. He needed to stay...

His eyes fell shut and did not blink open again.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

"Don't."  Rachelle slurred around the blood dropping from her lips. "Don't, just stay back, please!"

Her dark hair was damp with sweat and blood, plastering several strands to her face. Her body heaved with each breath, struggling for whatever air was to be had.

Patrick settled his palm against the cold glass separating them. She always knew, even when she was like this, drugs pumping into her body, eyes glassy and distant, she always knew when he stirred back into consciousness.

Her eyes flickered, rolling as another wave of light passed over her. She struggled against the straps holding her in place, fighting for a way out. Most times she was delirious by the third day of treatment but she still found it in herself to command him to stay away.

She never wanted his help, never asked for it, always insisted on handling everything alone. She always intended to endure, to struggle through on her own.

He never listened, never could bring himself to leave her in that state to struggle alone. 

"Patrick!" She warned, and it might have sounded authoritative if she'd been stronger.

He could not listen, could not leave her alone while she suffered. She did not deserve to be alone, in pain, blind to everything but the green light enveloping her. He could not simply sit there and watch, he couldn't!

Patrick reached, reached past the tangible, reached his mind toward hers and he dove, coiling himself about her to link their minds. As a new wave of the treatment flared, their agonized screams were joined together in the divided little room, two bodies sharing the pain of consciousness.

* * *

There was a heavy feeling to the air. Gathering to honestly plan, to talk realistically about their future was long overdue. Still, none of them had a real desire to proceed. They had become accustomed to hiding, to avoidance, to pretending nothing a wrong. Avoidance was far easier, less painful. 

The other three were sitting on the couch but Hank could not even consider sitting down. He was pacing more than anything else, walking the length of the windows.

"So," Sean rubbed his hands together before dropping them into his lap, "what are we gonna do now?"

Hank took a deep breath to gather himself. "I've been working on that. I've got some things in the works."

"What kind of things?" Darwin offered him a suspicious look.

"A plane, for starters." Hank turned his eyes to the floor, "I think we are going to need to be realistic... We need to have contingency plans in place for every eventuality. They may not know where we are or who we are anymore but that doesn't mean they will never look again."

"What besides a plane are you working on?" Alex finally spoke up.

"Same sort of things as before." Hank admitted.

"Before?" Alex sat up on the couch, scooting to the very edge, "Like, which before are we talking?" He motioned his hands  in a circle, "Like, jumpsuits and training, before? X-men and Shaw before?"

"Yeah." Hank tried  to fold in on himself a bit. "Charles thought the best of people. He had hope.  He thought we could eventually win this, have peace. He thought everything would be fine if they just couldn't find us anymore but... now he's gone. We may not have many options if they ever do find us again."

"What are you saying?" Darwin looked stricken, like he wanted the conversation to go anywhere other than where it seemed to be.

"I'm saying...we should... hope for the best, prepare for the worst."

"We supposed to go join up with Magneto's group now then?" There was heat to Alex's words, rage, resentment, but also resignation, like he might have wondered about the possibility before.

"No! No, that's not what I'm saying!" Hank rushed over his words, "I'm not saying we should go that route. Never! We're still - we're still X-men, it hasn't changed!"

"Then what are we supposed to do? With Charles..." Darwin turned his face away briefly, "Can we even keep this up without him? He was the one that found us all, recruited us, trained us!"

"I don't think we've got much choice. We have to figure it out." Hank wished he had something better.

Sean shook his head, looking at him like he'd gone mad, "Figure it out? Figure it out? We've barely been taking care of ourselves as it is, if we get caught too, without Professor X, we might as well have just gone to the front lines."

"That's not true! We can do this! Charles left us in charge! He trusted us! We are not going to let him down, we owe him that much! We will figure this out!" Hank was nearly shouting, something he rarely did.

The room fell into silence.

* * *

It took a while of searching the grounds, but eventually Hank found Sean, Kurt, Scott, and Jean. He had begun to think the worst, pondering all manner of trouble and disaster they could have begun as a group.

Nothing was burning, withering, shattered, dug up, or damaged. They were simply sitting by the lake, perched on various branches in the huge old tree. The kids loved to follow the redhead around on all manner of escapades so it was not entirely shocking. Sean was the Pied Piper without the malicious intent.

Hank jumped up onto an unoccupied branch, easing himself down. He decided to just coexist with them for a while until he could get something going or someone offered information.

He did not have to wait long. 

Kurt materialized in his lap after a few minutes of the silence, "Is it true?" He asked, that little Russian accent still so pronounced even after around two years of being at the mansion, "Is Professor X really gone...forever?" That little lip began to quiver at the question.

Charles had picked the boy up, flew over oceans to get to him without telling anyone why. He'd raced to the boy like all of existence depended on it. 

The moment Hank stepped off the jet and got a look at the little boy with blue hide and a devil's tail, he supposed he knew why. A mutant that looked like that little boy was as good as doomed. 

Still, he occasionally wondered why Charles had seemed so desperate, so utterly frantic even during the plane ride, he'd been beside himself.  He'd never quite been able to tell what the function of that place they found the child  in had actually been but it seemed like a money laundering place. He often wondered if they made the kid steal for them with his vanishing talents.

Charles did not approve, whatever the case. After all, without a seconds hesitation, he had frozen an entire building full of people so they could walk in unhindered or questioned. He had not even been _able_ to stop that many people since he lost his legs and began the serum, so seeing him do so then was more than slightly shocking.

The second Charles saw the little thing he'd scooped him up off the ground like he was afraid the very earth might open up and take him away. There were tears in those wise, knowing blue eyes as he held Kurt so close, so openly protective, so emotional as he whispered assurances and promises into pointed blue ears. It was made abundantly clear that Charles loved that little boy right from the start, and Kurt, unused to being loved and cherished the way a child should, practically became medically un-detachable from the telepath for quite some time.

It made Hank wonder if life had been that horrible for the little boy or if there was something else Charles alone knew.

Regardless, no one had taken Charles' absence as hard as Kurt but now...

"You don't have to worry, Kurt. Everything will be fine! You have a whole family here, the school is your home forever. We're all going to stick together and we'll all take care of each other."

"That's a yes." Scott whispered, looking away, hiding his eyes.

Kurt's red eyes widened, moisture spilling out of the corners, "Foreve'?!" His accent grew instantly thicker, "But v'hy? Did... did v'e do som'sing v'rong?"

"No! No one did anything wrong. He would come back if he could. He loved each one of us very much."

"He loved us so much..." Sean broke his silence, voice watery but clear, "that he did things, dangerous things, to make sure we were safe. That's why he can't come back, because he did too many of those dangerous things." 

"He promised he would come back!" Jean suddenly snapped, fists balled up, brows turned into a deep frown, red hair almost seeming to spark in the sun for a moment, "He promised!"

"He tired to keep his promise Jean," Hank told her gently, tucking Kurt's head under his chin, "He wanted to come back and he did everything he could to get back... He just couldn't."

"Sometimes adults make promises they aren't strong enough to keep." Sean said, "They want to keep them, they fight to keep them, they just lose."

Sean was terribly gentle when the two of them carried the tearful children back to the house. Something had changed in Banshee and he seemed so much older, world weary behind the eyes. A lot of his playfulness was gone and Hank never thought he would say it, but he missed Sean's antics.

* * *

Seven months later the news again came alive. There was panic, there were theories, and there were several assassinated officials.  The humans were worried. With reports running wild, each station tripping over each other to scoop the rest, there was a wealth of information being broadcast. Watching the information travel by, at first they all put money on it being Magneto, that is until a short reel of footage was released by some anonymous employee looking for money and glory.

The low quality surveillance footage clearly showed a busy hallway, seconds later, people were rushing for an office door, presumably after the shots. Someone in a full mask rushed out the doors, firing multiple shots both into the air and at a few of the people. Without warning or explanation the entire room of people frozen in place like they had been turned to stone.

The shooter was long gone even then but a separate figure in a long black coat, and a scarf, but no mask, rushed past them all in pursuit of the first person. The news instantly assumed it to be mutant involvement, potentially the Mutant Brotherhood.

Hank and the others though, were utterly certain it was Charles the second they witnessed the act. There were only particular mutants capable of acts like that, not to mention the figure moved like him, had the same posture. It was Charles.

Around the table, teachers sat at attention, tense as a bow. This time the meeting was with more than just Hank, Darwin, Alex, and Sean;  Clarice Fong, John Proudstar, and Piotr Rasputin were also in attendance since they had been present during the broadcast. Every one of them was about to boil over. Hank had not even tired to turn himself back after he transformed with the amount of stress they were all under.

Alex pounded the dining room table with both firsts, "They've had him this whole time! It's how they got Magneto out of prison! The Brotherhood kidnapped him and has been using him, forcing him to do their bidding somehow!"

"Magneto never did like Moira!" Sean hissed, right beside Alex. "He probably killed her right after they broke him out!"

"I doubt it was the Brotherhood." Hank countered, "All the leads pointed to Trask."

"Maybe the Brotherhood found him, raided some Trask property and found him there." Clarice Fong put in, tossing her lush purple hair off her shoulder. "They would want to keep him around once they found him."

She had been the very last mutant Charles and Moira rescued. Trask's people had already been chasing her and if the two had gotten to her a few moments later, Trask would have synchronized the net he had around her. If they had pulled the car up minutes after, none of them would have met Blink at all. Though she had not known them more than a few days she had been almost as broken up about Charles and Moira as those who had known them for years.

Darwin shook his head, almost too upset to speak, "Or maybe he hasn't been out long. Maybe he hasn't come back yet because he's trying to stop whatever they are up to now."

"Actually," Piotr Rasputin spoke up, the skin of his fingers turning sliver before he relaxed his posture, "for all we know, that _was_ them freeing Charles from some Trask project! Perhaps he will find his way back to us now?"

"If he was free, he would be here by now!" Alex snapped, "Or he would have let us know!"

"I agree," Sean was nearly as worked up as Alex, "He would at least find a payphone and call! He wouldn't let us keep thinking he's dead if he could help it!"

Clarice rubbed her fingers under her big green eyes, "Unless they brainwashed him or something, convinced him to go along with some kind of plan he didn't want us involved in."

"He'd still call!" Sean argued, "And Magneto couldn't convince Charles to breathe if the professor didn't want to!"

"What about the sister?" Clarice cut in, "Maybe she convinced him. Weirder things have happened. Maybe that's who he was chasing! That could easily have been a woman that killed those people."

"It doesn't matter." Hank lifted his voice enough to catch the attention of the rest of the teachers. "That was Charles! We all know it was, and that's what we've got to focus on. Clearly, whatever is happening, he is going to need help getting out of it."

"There is no way we can find him on our own. We couldn't find him when we had some idea where to look! How are we going to find him now?"

"I don't believe the Brotherhood has him, I'm sure it's Trask. If it is, we're going to need some help." Hank left distinct punctures in the armrests of his chair as his claws dug in, already dreading his own words.

"Some help?" Alex asked incredulously, "We need an army to go up against Trask!"

"Then I guess we find the Brotherhood." Hank announced.

"Wait, what?" Darwin snapped to his feet. "The Brotherhood?"

The entire room seemed to be crackling now.

"Alex has a point. We need an army, we need more people, more eyes, more skills. There is only one place, one group like that we even have a shot with." Hank knew they thought him utterly mad. Every eye was on him, wide and incredulous.

"What makes you think Magneto will lift a finger for us?" Alex growled.

"We're all mutants. This kind of thing is up their alley." Hank was perfectly calm, he'd never been more sure about a choice in his life.

"You want to team up with terrorists? The same people that left us to die the last time we trusted them?"

"This is our only chance. We ignore it and we may never see Charles again! We let him down, let him be stolen before, we failed him! I'm not willing to do that again, so yes! If it means making a deal with the devil, fine!" Hank didn't mean for the rumble to leave his throat, it sounded animal, dangerous.

"If it's tracking down the Brotherhood... I can help you with that." For the first time since the conversation started, John Proudstar spoke up, rubbing a hand over his square jaw, "As most of you know, I'm a tracker. I also have the best chance of getting in of anyone here since they tired to recruit me once already. Mystique already knows me so I could pretend I had a change of heart and scout it out. If they do have the professor, I can find out. If not, we know it's Trask."

Everyone starred at John, struck dumb by the suggestion. John had not been at the school more than a four months. He was the only mutant that came to them on his own, without Charles.

Mystique had apparently infiltrated the army for a time, intercepting Trask and his kidnapping of mutants supposedly being shipped home. John had been among those she saved. While tree Brotherhood attempted to bring him into their circle from there, as they often did after Mystique rescued them, John refused. 

Instead, he came looking for them.

His plan could actually work. It would give them just about everything they needed. If John could pull that off they would not only know if they had Charles, they would be able to track them.

"Do you really think you can do that?" Hank leaned his elbows on the table, studying the younger man. He was strong, capable, nearly indestructible. 

"Hey, don't underestimate John just because he looks good in a man bun." Clarice looked at Hank, then shot John a side glance.

"Thank you, I think?" John offered her a crooked smile.

She shrugged, "It's a stupid and dangerous idea, but it's probably one of the best options."

Hank found he could not disagree with her there. There were probably plenty of mutants in tree Brotherhood capable of killing Thunderbird. He hoped it never came to that. He hoped John was a good enough actor to avoid suspicion. He hoped they didn't end up losing yet another person.

"I'll go with you." Clarice offered, "The only thing worse than doing something stupid and dangerous is doing it alone."

Hank was not encouraged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, Clarice and John wouldn't even have been born yet. I implanted them anyway because I love them.


	5. Chapter 5

Though it took considerably more time than they really had to spend freely,  John Proudstar and Clarice Fong tracked down the Mutant Brotherhood's hideout.  While it felt like it could turn into exactly the same case as it had been with the last two people thirty sent in undercover; the similarities in the situations and execution of plans really was terribly alike; there had again been little choice.

Thunderbird, even for all his skills,  had been unable to track Charles after so long of him going missing.  They could not get anywhere near the latest sighting of Charles as it was a crime scene and Trask had specifically armed all current guards with mutant detection devices.

Magneto's cult was the very next option as far as it went. Either they had a hand in Charles' kidnapping, they might know something,  or they could help the X-men find out. 

Thunderbird and Blink were accepted into the fold with seemingly open arms,  likely because no one knew that the X-Men had already recruited them as,  well,  they were still essentially in hiding.  There was no reason to expect spies, thankfully, so infiltrating went smoothly. After that,  it took a few more days for the two to sufficiently determine that no one,  not even the top ranking members,  could conceivably be hiding one Charles Xavier. 

Hank and Alex startled terribly when the swirling ring of purple light appeared in the center of the kitchen one evening though as they had not been expecting a return so soon.  They had been at the mansion less than three hours prior.  The X-Men were still in the process of mobilizing for the next morning. 

John stepped out of the circle first,  looking grave as death,  and Clarice did not look much more cheerful. 

"We have a problem." John informed them succinctly. 

Alex narrowed his eyes warily, "What kind of problem?"

"We need to make our move tonight." Clarice hoped up onto one of the bar stools. 

"Why tonight?" Hank was already waving his hands about like a conductor, "We aren't ready for a confrontation tonight! We are in the process of gathering equipment,  readying the portable-"

"Well," John cut him off,  hooking his thumbs in his belt loops, "then we have to go as we are and hope they don't want to get into it.  Our timeline is moved up because the great,  logical master of magnetism decided we're attacking a weapons plant tomorrow."

"If we want to head that off," Clarice added, "we have to do it before they mobilize."

"I'm gonna kill him!" Alex shouted to a nearby wall,  turning on his heel and fisting his hair in his hands. "Why does he always manage to make everything worse!?"

"Are they planning to use the weapons or destroy them?" Hank seemed less inclined to care,  at least not if it meant ruining the plan. 

"We don't know,  honestly." Clarice confessed, "but adding Magneto, Mystique, and the Brotherhood in a bunker of weapons of mass destruction is not the best recipe I've ever heard of."

There really was nothing else they could do but move. They could not allow Magneto to raid a weapons plant, it was too dangerous a prospect to entertain. Regardless of whether he destroyed the plant or stole the weapons,  the results would be a disaster. 

* * *

They gathered up what they had and hoped they would not be waking into a fight they were woefully unprepared for. They banked on the element of surprise and whatever there was left of their history with the two main leaders. 

If there was even a thread of sentimentality left for them,  but most importantly,  Charles,  Mystique would listen.  There was little any of them were willing to bank on with Magneto,  not even in Charles case.  Friends they might have been,  but it had all been undone on a sandy beach.  The trust would never be anywhere close to renewed regardless of what Erik responded with upon seeing them.  He could turn on them all easily enough. 

That was the problem with desperation,  it left one open to betrayal because safer options were not available. It left a sour taste in their mouths to have to contemplate asking for help from Magneto. Still,  here they were,  bringing the oldest in the group,  as many as the school child spare,  and they were jumping through a portal on the outskirts of a terrorist camp. 

They intended to bring more people, bring weapons,  and storm the hideout to make demands. The reality was going to be far less glorious,  involving far more supplication and discreet groveling. They intended to put a stop to the raid but they had little ground to stand on.  The area was unfamiliar,  their own weapons had not been ready,  not the tools they used to help some of them focus their power.  Alex was relying on an old model in his suit as the latest one was not tested and child not be tested while they had many of their own potentially in harms way. 

Clarice and John retreated back to their tent just in case they needed to hold onto their cover,  vanishing into the night,  taking their only way to retreat with them.  It was part of the plan,  but having the way out lost was disconcerting. 

Hank felt like he might have an aneurysm. 

Once they sneaked up to the border of the camp they were noticed,  of course. Everything moved very fast after that. Both sides began posturing, barring teeth, puffing up their chest,  fanning out their tails,  just generally trying to intimidate the opposition.

Things escalated, a few energy shots were fired from both sides even though Hank loudly insisted they were there to talk.  It seemed like unbeatable odds,  like a battle was imminent.

Then a voice cut above it all and flowing yellow eyes landed on Hank as mystique,  in all her blue scales,  sauntered to the head of her group.

Hank had intentionally brought out his own blue side for the occasion,  knowing he would need the advantage it offered.  They faced off,  yellow eyes to orange,  fur to scales. 

"What are you doing here?" She asked simply,  voice harsh and unyielding. 

Hank found himself slightly breathless,  even after so much time had passed, "We came to talk."

She arched a ridged brow, "So talk.  I'm listening."

"We need to talk to Magneto too." Armando stepped in,  taking pity on Hank and his sudden bout with dejavu coupled with heart arrhythmia, "Something has happened."

"We're busy." She crossed her arms under her chest, "You can't expect us to drop everything when you show up unannounced!"

"It's important." Alex offered,  more subdued than he would have been with Erik, "It's about the Professor."

Stark confusion flitted over her face and she cocked her head,  bird- like, "Charles? What about him?"

"We need to speak with you and Erik together." Armando pressed,  not conceding ground. 

Her jaw clenched in irritation but she nodded and marched them to the center of the camp.  They were made to wait outside a tent,  clustered into a tight ball so as not to be ambushed.  They probably looked like a school of fish,  ready to swim away at the slightest provocation. 

Without warning, Magneto emerged from the opening, a sharp,  predatory smile on his face,  helmet in place, "My,  what a surprise!"

Darwin instantly stepped in front of Alex and the blond's sudden shower of sparks. Magneto only smiled wider,  amused rather than intimidated as he put on a show of amiably offering to have a chat with them since they "came all the way out" to find him.

He took them into his tent, already suspicious at their timing,  bluntly asking after their knowledge of his movements.  No doubt he believed it had been  Charles that found him out.

It only took a few seconds of their judgemental silence before he began to justify what he was doing but Hank was less than interested.

Hank held in a sigh, "We didn't come just because we heard you were going after weapons.  We came because-"

"Before you get on your high horse,  condemning us," Mystique snarled, "Shouldn't you be telling us why you've been hiding in the ivory tower,  doing nothing? Do you have any idea what's happening outside your fence? I've been getting mutants out of the death trap, posing as military, sending them home! I was independently doing so until I heard about Erik's escape."

"Funny how popular you become once you escape prison." Magneto flashed a smirk at all of them but he was met with only one halfhearted smile from a girl with black hair in return, so he sighed, lifting his shoulders in a shrug, "Though none of you came to congratulate me."

"Not so much." Sean mumbled very quietly, unlike his usual cheeky manner.

The interesting part, Magneto thought, was how they all seemed to look to Hank. Even Alex was very clearly deferring to him. He stood at the head of the group like a father bear, a Charles Xavier in blue. Exactly what had happened while he was away? He should have visited more often than once or twice, whatever it had been. It might give him some ground to stand on now that he was faced with these familiar and not so familiar faces.

"I take it that the school is doing well, judging by how many new faces you brought with you." When Hank bristled at the compliment a few warning bells sounded inside Erik's skull, so he persisted, testing, "Not that I'm looking to steal them away, but did you bring all of them or is this only part of the group?"

"Pretty sure it's not actually your business seeing as how you never bothered to care how we were before." Darwin sounded very calm but there was a subtle bite to each word, one that was so different from his normally easy, wide smiles of the past. 

Erik cocked a brow, leaning most of his weight on one leg as he licked his lower lip, "Very well, as you wish! We can skip the polite questions and general niceties." None of them objected, letting him say his peace, waiting to see what he would do, "So just tell me, why did Charles send you all here? He obviously had reason to risk-"

The tiny gasp stopped him, setting off more warning bells, and now he studied the sudden wide eyes and absolutely rigid stances. Hank honestly looked ready to roar and spring at him even though he stood his ground.

It was the collective reaction of having someone verbally stomp on an open nerve. There were so many diverted eyes and fidgeting fingers that it all dropped a lead weight into his gut as he watched them. Mystique seemed to notice it as well if the way her back arching was indication, and it always was. The tension in the small group screamed foreboding and he and Mystique far from stupid.

Erik's shoulders stiffened, brows curled down tightly, and his fingers fisting at his sides.

It was Raven that spoke first though, "Where is Charles?"

It took Hank considerable time to answer, his face showing so clearly how many biting retorts he was holding back before he answered rather lowly, "We all wish we knew."

Those words felt a little like a punch.  Charles was paralyzed,  it was not as if he could just run off. 

Alex's strong, dominant voice cut in, "Which is why we came. We were sort of hoping you guys might have an idea about that."

Yellow eyes stared at them, wider than Hank thought he had ever seen them, "How can you not know? You've been with him." A reflexive if not strictly defensive anger took hold of her tone to shift it from the worry, "How exactly do you misplace someone like that?"

"If you hadn't run away and left him, maybe you would know." That was one of the nicer things swirling in the blue furry head and it was obvious.

"Since neither of us have been held up in a house to hide, perhaps you might enlighten us?" Magneto interjected, the utter calm in his expression not quite hiding the churning emotion well enough past the creaking leather of his gloves as his fists clenched tighter.

"The Professor has been missing since he went undercover to reverse the draft notices for all of us old enough. He knew mutants were getting picked off so he started erasing evidence, covering trails, hiding us. Everyone here was rescued and given new identities or histories to keep them from tracking us." Darwin spoke in his easy way, shifted to his quiet manner, adapting as he always did to calm the others.

Missing. The word might as well have been a slap or a gunshot to the stomach. 

Hank's jaws clenched before he spoke to the two numb figures before him, "Charles and Moira knew the mutants would never stand a chance, put on the front lines just like the three teachers drafted from the school before. He refused to let any more of us be taken so the two of them decided to alter all the records, erase everything detailing mutant behavior and shaving off a few years for the older ones." He motioned behind him, "Got them all fake records and identification so they would be safe at the school. They also erased every record about any holding of the Xavier estates to be sure no one could find the house, or at least not the right Xavier house. They even erased what they could of your records. You and Raven don't officially exist in more than a few pages of information that was too public to get rid of."

That was indeed news, but not something to be focused on in light of the bigger picture.

"What went wrong?" Erik spit out, managing to sound very even.

"We don't know." Hank admitted bitterly, "They just stopped showing up to the meeting place and then..." the orange eyes fell away, blinking several times as if to focus, "Moira was found dead."

The air suddenly seemed much heavier, harder to breathe.

"No one has come to the house in all that time, no one asking questions. The records really are all gone because we checked." Alex picked up the baton when no one else spoke. "But the mutants he had been rescuing stopped coming. None of us have heard or seen anything no matter what we tried. Moira was killed around the time you broke out so we thought there could be a connection somewhere."

With that, Raven nearly lunged at the blond, voice a raspy, partial scream as she glared, "That was months ago!" Her hands shot up at her sides, uselessly motioning with no direction, "He has been missing for eight months? That is nearly a year! What were you thinking? Why did you never try to contact us?"

"You forgot to leave us your phone numbers when you left us on the beach to die." Sean muttered, locking eyes with her, "And we forgot to ask all the times you never visited." His cheeks were starting to redden behind his freckles with his anger as he glanced at Erik, "You didn't leave a number that time you stopped by either, even when you saw him in the chair."

Absolute dead silence fell over them all as they all stared at the opposing side. No one seemed to quite be breathing as they all seemed to let what had been said settle into their minds. Most of those faces had not been on the beach on the day in question but every one of them seemed to know about it as well as which of the Brotherhood leaders standing in front of them committed what travesty against the beloved Professor. Saying it aloud made it more real to all the young faces staring at the two seasoned warriors.

"Actually, he has been missing a year and six weeks." Hank nearly whispered it but they heard it all the same. "Three days... seventeen hours. But that is counting the time it took us to find you." He could not seem to hold back as if counting it all alone had been too much to stand.

The horrified curse was not stifled fast enough by the quick motion of Raven's hands clamping over her mouth. She very nearly crumpled but managed to remain on her feet before the crowd of onlookers. Erik would have had more sympathy for her had he not been fighting so very hard to stay calm himself. Magneto could not suddenly become emotional over such news because he was the leader. Though a few metal objects around camp rattled for a few seconds.

Magneto's shoulders squared, a chill entering his eyes like the setting of winter, "Then he is dead. They would never keep a mutant alive that long." He steadfastly ignored the sharp pitch cry from Mystique and he simply pressed on, "If Moira is dead, killed as a traitor, there is no hope for Charles. Were he alive, he would have returned to you by now. They probably killed him before they killed her."

There were a lot of stuttering or even held breaths from his crowd but he refused to back down. He stood tall before them without regretting a thing he said. It was the truth. Charles was a strong telepath but he was also crippled, vulnerable... and weak. He knew as well as any that that particular gift could be blocked, and if it was, Charles was defenseless.

Without telepathy Xavier was utterly helpless. His hands suddenly twitched at his sides even though he did not know why. If Ch-Professor Xavier had been killed before the human woman it would mean he himself could have done nothing to help, locked away as he was. Part of him was glad to know that and part of him desperately cursed himself for not having been free to help in the beginning.

His throat suddenly tightened when a very unwelcome vision of Charles staring up at him from the sand planted itself in his mind. The air in the mountains was much too dry and made his eyes want to water.

"That was what we thought until just a short time ago when we all saw him alive." Hank spoke with actual hope in his voice, a hope that instantly shot right through each one of them standing in that tent. "His face was conferred but no one can do the things he can. No telepath can freeze an entire room and walk through as if it were nothing at all."

* * *

His legs pumped so hard and his breaths came in deep and desperate drags. Under the scarf covering his nose and mouth he distantly knew with irritation that his cheeks would be burning red. He could blame it on the cold but he knew perfectly well it was from exertion. Being in shape helped the hated sign he always considered a show of weakness to present itself less often, but chasing two mutants over fences, yards, parking lots, and even the tops of roofs was really his limitation. He was a telepath, not part lizard or cat, which those two were!

Well, technically only one of them was, but it was two for all intensive purposes.

They swerved, turning down a dark alley while he plunged after them, cursing when he nearly decapitated himself on a hanging ladder. Still, he forged on, thankful when the space opened up to the light of the moon once again. Thankful, that is, until he saw their new destination. It would be just his luck to fall from the cliffs into the cold tropical waves and the probable shark infested waters. Every island had sharks, always, but he understood that this one was known for it!

If he could just get a hold of that bloody lizard mind this could be over! He never had this much trouble gaining a handle on even such a wild minded thing, but he could not quite catch it. Perhaps it was the distance. His range had been rather poor in recent day thanks to a slight accident but it should not have been anything he could not handle. Somehow, that mutant was blocking him. It was not smart enough to do it mentally so it clearly carried something with it that managed to deflect his efforts.

Eyes on the the ever elusive pare, he had to groan to himself. Why did they have so many boats when there were sharks lingering everywhere? Logic dictated that people really should avoid tempting fate in such a way. He stumbled down the dock steps, following them to the boats as well as he possibly could without actually tripping and breaking his neck; he was frankly not interested when it came to accidents.

The moon reflected off the silvery scales of the mutant as it climbed the metal mast of the coast guard ship, its laughter peeling over the air like a blast from a horn to his ears. His tail coiled round the top as he watched the closer pursuer as well as the much farther distanced man in black. Before his female counterpart was fully up the sails he had jumped to the desk below and scurried down an open hatch.

Even over the distance, he heard her hiss of anger as she chased him down. All the mind reader could do was run faster, knowing he could never catch her attention when she was like this, so lost in the chase that his warnings would never be hindered. The scattered, jigsaw mind of the lizard man was very difficult to even begin to put together considering much of it was utter nonsense and made up words, but he had picked up on the fact that she was going to be attacked the second she made it into that smaller space.

The muscles in his chest were taking a beating as his heart pounded harder, the stress spiking it higher than the run ever had. The mind reader could only hope he arrived in time to save her. He had a feeling she would need it with this particular case.

* * *

 

Scurrying down the steps, she swung herself high, anticipating the tail waiting to trip her from under the open metal steps. It would not be so simple to outsmart her! The pads of her fingers stuck to the roof of the boat, slipping a bit over the metal, but not so badly she could not retain her hold. Her hair hung awkwardly from the tight band securing it into a clump at the back of her head, her bangs dangled strangely as she hung upside down. Her own tail lashed like an angry cat as she hissed. His big eyes stared at her and his tongue flicked out to his lips, a motion she could not keep her own tongue from following as she stared back.

She hissed at him again, baring her teeth before she dropped to the floor, running at him the second she was on the ground. He raced away, cackling loudly as he took to running along the walls as he lead her down a hall.

They were all so stupid, human trash, just like electric eels! Ships like this were made of living metal to keep the alien invaders from reading minds, but it would not work! Communist Patriots be damned to pickle in -

Eyes snapping shut, she shook her head to clear it from the utter gibberish filling it. She had to focus! She could focus! Her companion must have been getting closer if she was getting worse. Or maybe those were part of her own absorption. Either way, she needed to stay clear. Keep these thoughts out of her head and hold fast to her own clarity! There was a job to do! This mutant was dangerous, like electric eels! _Oh, god,_ she needed to hold her head and stop letting it cloud her mind like this!

He skidded into a large room, a captains showy little room, and she slammed the door shut behind her. Trapping her in a room had been his intention and she knew it but she did not care. A small thrill ran up her spine as he grinned wide at her and her own lips pulled into a mirrored smirk. This would be fun while it lasted, but he would die.

Those long fingers of his reached back for a knife and she reached for her gun. They drew together but neither moved for a moment after, but then it was chaotic flashes as each dove and twisted round the other. His fingers held her wrist to steal the gun and she held his to keep the blade away from her face. They grappled round and round the room, toppled the wooden furniture, bounced over the bed, and hit the floor in a joint roll. At some point they had begun to cackle in tandem, eyes wild with blood-lust, tails coiled one round the others as they rolled like a set of crocodiles in a fight.

They wanted to win, to prance the body of the other around like a trophy of strength for all the others to see. Maybe it might be nice to eat the heart; just slice open the chest and lap it up. Aliens could not read minds if you eat enough hearts, but a lizard heart should be best of all because it would be the same.

Some part of her distantly realized that those were not her own thoughts but his, yet there was not enough of her mind distanced from the fight to separate his insanity for her usual clarity. That part of her screamed for help and wanted to crawl away from such a hideous mind, but it was already too late.

 _Rachel!_ A distantly familiar voice rattled within her mind but she hardly heard it, too busy seeing red as the knife cut into her arm and then his as they flailed along the floor. There was no humanity in either of them, reverted to nothing but animals locked in a fight. _Hang on!_ It called to her again, falling unnoticed once again.

There was quite a lot of blood but she did not pay a great deal of attention as she screamed and hissed, grinning all the while. One last roll put her on top, the gun having swiveled to the center of his chest, her fingers still locked on the trigger. The widening of his eyes told her that he knew it was over, but his smile only widened as he cackled his last.

The loud, loud bang cut him off and silence dropped down on her. She was panting but there was no other sound. It was only in that moment that she realized he had been screaming strange things to her as they struggled. He had never once been quite, either babbling nonsense that somehow seemed utterly logical in the moment, or laughing and giggling. The knife was in her hand one second and in his chest the next, but she stopped short of opening him up like his voice was telling her to.

Her skin was already tingling painfully in that familiar way, the marrow of her bones aching and she knew she was about to shift. She scrambled to her feet as her fingers began to shrink, claws returning to her normal nails, and the scales slowly vanished. It hurt, every bit of it hurt, but not the way it once had. The tail melted away to nearly unhinge her balance enough to make her fall back down. Her body normalized again, shaping back to its gentle and thin slopes. The sharp bones of her cheeks nestled back to their usual place, the reptilian features lost and leaving the beautiful girl with dark innocent eyes behind. Her face was wet, water dripping down her chin even though she could not explain why.

Her clothing was ripped in quite a few places but she did not really notice. This was not the first time. Her pants had been ruined by the tail but she still had a coat and the belt was still on the keep what was left from falling off. Had she been in a skirt there would have been no problems, though her legs would have been badly cut up. Modesty was saved by long coats.

The laughter, she realized, was still rippling from her even as she moved to the door. It felt good to laugh so she simply allowed it, letting the residue of insanity hold its place as the mutants voice lingered in her mind. Everything he said during their fight made her laugh harder. He was right! They all deserved at drown in their gold! Everything he said was so illogical but he was so correct! Mirrors, at least his, really would keep aliens from reading their mind! She understood why he had so very many hanging from chains all over him now! They cut her hands and arms while they struggled but she never felt it.

* * *

The very second the fight was over, he knew it, felt it, and he slowed. He was panting, leaning on the wall for support as he gathered himself. Hooking a finger in the scarf, he tugged it down to hang very loosely at his neck. His hands cradled his head as his ragged breathing slowed and the cold sting in his lungs began to subside. She was returning to her usual form, he could feel that as well. When the pain flared he sent her a few calming sensations to take the edge away and increased the serotonin it produced.  

Just a minute too late. Now he would have to help her pick up the pieces because he could do nothing more than that. She would need him now, need him to gather back her mind from that dark place.

She was just down the hall, her shields down uselessly in the wake of her shift. Normally he could not gain such blatant entry to her mind without her explicitly letting him, but it was easy to slip through now. It was not normally such a dramatic change but she had been too close to that creature for too long. The chase lasted such a long time and now she was much too tired to be able to keep him out. Her body could sustain more than one shift at once but that lizard had simply been too vast a change for her mind to keep up. Every part of her had become the lizard mutant and now she would need time to recover. In more than one way.

The thoughts bubbling from her mind were utter babble, just the way his had been. The sheer volume of his insanity had surprised both of them. When he has fallen so far behind it had left her so very open. In hindsight, it might have been better if he stayed farther back to let her mutation stop latching into him from a distance, forcing her mind to remain so open. It would not have helped very much if he had though. This was all part of her mutation, the price of it.

Every gift had some form of price, such as his ever present headaches. Everything in life had a good and a bad side. There was nothing to be done about it but try to balance it.

The door opened and he watched her come out of the room, weaving more than walking. He could not help the swell of sympathy he felt at seeing his dearest friend in such a pitiful state but he shoved it away to avoid her picking it up. She would hate his pity. He stood up slowly as he watched her amble down the hall, her eyes fixed on him even if she had difficulty focusing.

She was laughing maniacally, eyes so wild as they peeked at him from under the thick bangs. Tear streamed down both her cheeks and he knew those to be her own. She knew she was not in control of herself, felt the insanity coiled around her mind and she was afraid. Rachel loathed being out of control but she could not help things like this. It was a defect in her mutation, taking on a little of the personality of any mutant she stole powers from. It was not her fault, things like the strong and suffocating insanity of that mutant simply carried to her more easily.

His hand extended to her, eyes gentle and carefully delivering no blow of judgement. Laughter still bubbling from her, she slipping her hand into his and he pulled her to him. His gloved hand slid into her dark hair, rubbing circles along her scalp while his other arm slipped around her twitching body to hold her in place. He could feel her fear, the horror that belonged to her rather than the stolen powers, the quiet sobs of shame thrumming in the back of her mind as she tried to hide from what had possessed her sanity.

"Calm your mind, love." He whispered directly into her ear, "I'm right here."

The shaking stopped and he let her coil against him, reaching for him in every sense there was, winding herself into his powers like a lifeline to pull herself away from the one she did not want to keep. He did not resist as he felt her sinking into his mind, her mutation duplicating his gift so that she could crawl inside to cower there within his safe mental walls. The body in his arms went limp as she drew her consciousness from it to ride with his instead until it was safe to go back.

The poor creature was light in his arms and so easy to pick up. She did not take care of her body and pushed it much too hard. Strong and fast as she was, he had watched her slowly fading over time. The treatment for her mutation was taking a considerable price from her. While he did everything he could to help her, she refused it. When she wielded the exact same power as he himself did, because she could not actually prevent her powers from melding with any mutant she was in contact with, there was little he could do to force her to do as he instructed.

 _Why can't I control it? Why can I never truly control it?_ The delicate, smooth voice murmured into his thoughts.

 _You will_ , he assured her quickly. _It takes time. I am right here with you, I promise._

She was silent as he held her close and walked down a hallway until he found comfortable seating. The couch would do them both a bit of good until they were each stead and rested enough to return home. If anyone found them he would take care of that, but they would be fine for the time being. Someone would be along soon for the mass murdering mutant she killed anyway. He did not particularly care what happened to the creature. Some minds were simply not together enough to even begin to work with. It had done horrible things to Rachel even though she was still thankfully alive, unlike most the encountered it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be a weird almost- kinda rendition of winter soldier. There will be a "Who the hell is Charles" moment, in a way, but later down the line.


End file.
